Mach. Whence this rashness?
Ray. Bless'd occasion! let's on 'em.
[The French whisper. The French fly upon 'em: they turn to their Guard, and beat 'em off.
ACT III., SCENE 1.
Enter Machiavel, Fulgentio, Pandolpho, Alerzo, Giovanno, with Raymond prisoner, and the rest of the Tailors.
All the Tai. A tailor, a tailor, a tailor!
Gio. Raymond, y' are now my prisoner:
Blind chance has favour'd, where your thoughts
Had hope she meant to ruin
From our discord, which Heaven has made victorious,
You meant to strike a harmony should glad you.
Aler. 'Tis not to be borne: a tailor!
[Whisper.